


tiempo para mi

by latt



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Breathplay, Choking, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-03 16:14:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13999839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/latt/pseuds/latt
Summary: Gloves are functional, in more ways than one. Where Noctis wants Ignis to choke him.





	tiempo para mi

**Author's Note:**

> for ohhhdis on Tumblr :3 thank you for such an amazing prompt. This is just the beginning :D because this is 100% one of my fave kinks.

They never have that much time anymore, not with the preparations for the treaty and the prince’s mostly unknown trip. But today was a little different with Ignis having a blessed free hour between meetings and Noctis being that much earlier for training. Time they could have spent on reports or warm-up, respectively, but their preference was being clutched in each other’s arms.

Soft lips nibble at Iggy's jaw, the latest assault by the eager prince. Gentle, painless morning light filters through the tall windows of his small but tidy office. Pulling him away, Ignis takes a moment to appreciate how the light shines in those brilliant blue eyes. Desire and love swallows his being, has him cradling Noct's face in his hands and kissing him deeply. Again and again their lips and tongue meet to explore and enjoy what they both have to offer. And as the seconds tick by, Noctis becomes bolder, pushing their lean bodies together.

Ignis shivers, panting into his mouth before pulling away once more. Noct's lonely sigh tugs at his heart but his internal clock tells him their time is almost up. He curses the indifferent, roiling movement of the cosmos before the prince's rough fingertips between his eyebrows bring him back to reality.

"You think too much, Specs," Noct murmurs, standing on his toes to kiss the little crease his fingers couldn't quite get rid of. Ignis smiles then which seems to satisfy him.

He returns the favor by sweeping away the dark bangs from his forehead and planting a loving kiss on smooth skin. Noctis huffs and awkwardly wiggles away from the affection.

He mutters, "You're a mush, you know that?" He gathers his gym bag, slinging the heavy pack over his shoulder with a resigned grunt.

Ignis hums, leaning against his desk and watching his boyfriend with amusement. "I daresay you started it." It didn't matter if he referred to Noct's sweet kiss or the way he had unceremoniously declared his feelings for his advisor over a year ago.

Making a face, Noctis slots his body right between his legs. He scratches at the skin peeking out his shirt collar, feeling the difference between that and the cool silver chain. "Tonight," his eyes flick up to meet his green even gaze. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, a nervous habit. "Please, Iggy?"

Ignis shifts, curling his hands around Noct's hips. Tonight...his mind runs through both of their schedules and frowns. With today's morning training, several meetings, and then a major warping demonstration with the Kingsglaive, he worries the prince would be too drained by the blasted Crystal and the general tasks of the day. Chewing on his cheek, he wonders if he could get away with thinning out his schedule the next few weeks.

Noct's impatient fingers tapping his forehead once again breaks him from his running thoughts. Clearing his throat, he straightens up and guides him towards the door. "Only if you're feeling up to it, Noct." His smooth tone still belies concern and Ignis inwardly cringes. He watches the prince's eyes narrow.

"Don't," Noctis says flatly. "I know you worry but I can handle it." He shuffles out, shutting the door none too gently.

Ignis sighs, looking out the window. He knows about the prince's sensitivity to being coddled but he can't help it. He has had to stay up too many nights watching Noctis barely breath after the Crystal exacted its price. A whisper of fear from those moments worms through his mind but is quickly banished by his ringing cell.

A few hours later, screwing his eyes shut, Ignis leans back in his chair after snapping the folio shut. Reading the peace treaty with Niflheim for the tenth time would do little to dispel his uneasiness. They are surely after something, he thinks but at this point such suspicion was nothing but speculation. And that would not do, neither for himself or Clarus Amicitia. Checking his phone, he rises from his seat and begins changing into his training clothes.

He maintains a brisk pace towards the training grounds when Gladio runs up beside him. “Iggs, I went to your office but I must have missed you,” he huffs, pushing aside his sweaty bangs.

“I would loathe to be late for our sparring,” Iggy spares a small smile before he notices the Shield holding something.

"You're going to be cooking, driving, and fighting. Here," he sheepishly shoves a carefully wrapped black and purple package towards Iggy. "It'll make sense that you don't ruin your delicate hands."

"Delicate,” Ignis hums, humor curling his lips into a tight smile, as he gently pulls apart the wrapping (likely done by the Amicitia steward, Jared). He smacks the gloves softly in the palm of his hand. "Let's put that observation to the test, shall we?"

Gladio swings his arm over his friend's shoulder, his laughter ringing through the hallways, as they head towards the training room.

~*~*~

_ On the road... _

It was in the way that Ignis gently curls his hands around his wrist when insisting that they camp out for the night instead of continuing trekking through the wilderness. Noctis relishes the careful ministrations of his food prep, how he slices the peppers in such a precise manner that should not have been entirely possible with those gloves. And if his eyes strays in a slow minute of a fight to deft hands gripping the dual daggers or sliding up the lance well--

“Ugh, it huuuurts,” Noctis fidgets under the glowing light of the elixir.

“Be still, Noct,” mutters Ignis as he tightens the bandages around the prince’s chest. He makes a sound undignified for royalty but keeps quiet.

Gladio scowls, crossing his arms, “You got distracted, kid. What was so--”

“I’m three years younger than you, stop calling me kid, _old man_.” Noctis hisses as the last of the magic knits sinew and muscle together where the spiracorn had gouged him. His Shield’s amused grunt frays his nerves but then he leaves, wanting to keep Prompto company on the first watch.

Ignis sits back on their sleeping bags, having finished packing away the first-aid kit. Now that they were alone, Noctis reaches for his hand, smoothing the leather with his thumb. At first, he had sulked about the gloves. They were a sin, having the audacity to slide over skin, brush against tendons. It was not fair. He had memorized every freckle, the shifts of color over knuckles and fingertips, the fault lines of the palm, and the few nicks and scars of paperwork and training. Truth be told, Ignis’ hands were the only thing that kept his attention in the stifling Citadel meetings.

But now, Noctis could see their purpose, away from the relative safety and comfort of Insomnia. Ignis smiles, his eyes glinting in the dim light before he pulls away and begins undressing. Noct shifts and slides into his sleeping bag, watching him change into his pajamas. “You’re putting on a show, you know that?” he mumbles, the day’s missions and injury pulling him down in a wave of tiredness. He hears his friend’s soft chuckle before sleep overtakes him in sweet darkness.

~*~*~

When Noctis wakes, it takes him a bit to remember where he is. The bleary morning light tells him it’s too early but the insistent bulge in his shorts won’t let up. If he whines Iggy’s name, well, he could blame just having woken up.

Reliable as ever, Ignis pokes his head in, coffee mug in hand, and he shuffles in when Noct makes grabby hands at him. “Everything alright, your Highness?”

Noctis squints, his arousal spiking when Ignis brushes a gloved hand through his undone hair. “Iggy, where’s Gladio and Prompto?” He barely registers licking his lips, his eyes roving the casual rolled-up sleeves and the lean forearms that tapered lovingly into those hands.

“Out for a run,” Ignis tilts his head and smiles. Of course, he wouldn’t miss the signs: ever present, and ever observant. “We have perhaps an hour.”

“Good enough,” the words rush out as Noct practically launches himself on to Ignis.

Iggy is thankful for having the presence of mind to set his coffee (and glasses) aside. With the insanity of the peace treaty and their impending trip, a kiss had scarcely passed between them in the last month before leaving the Citadel.

An hour was a measly allowance by the gods but to Noctis, it might as well be eternity. Now, where Ignis kiss and touch him, embers light and flare, burning away the stress and frustration. He stops mouthing at his neck and murmurs, "Remember the time we both had a crap day, and we pissed each other off?"

Ignis loosens his grip on Noct's shirt, his face burning because the memory knocked the breath out of his lungs. Clenching his jaw, mind going into overdrive, he nods.

"Hmm," Noctis grins, satisfied by the redness that's flushing his cheeks. He snakes his arms over his shoulders and leans up, "You held me down and," he gingerly lifts a gloved hand, placing it at the hollow of his throat. "And, you grabbed me right there. Do you want to try that again?"

Entranced by the liquid words, Ignis watches him with hooded eyes, kiss-red lips slightly open. He presses in the thumb that makes skin-to-skin contact on Noct's throat. He bites his lip a little when the prince arches into him, eyes fluttering close. Waits a beat and squeezes lightly. Ignis can't deny the thrill that runs through him as his other hand goes down to cup Noct through his underwear before flipping him around and settling him on his lap, back pressing into his chest. Daring to lick a hot stripe along the curve of his shoulder, he teases, “We must be careful, Noctis.” Leather presses into pliant skin.

Noctis could laugh or weep at the sensation but he nods, saying, "Yeah, I-I'll tell you if it's too much." He grinds against him, smug when Ignis lets out a breathy moan.

Ignis reaches around him and fumbles for the lube in the bag by his bedroll. Snatching it away, Noct pops the cap open and grabs his hand, fingers hooking through the strap of the glove. The closure comes away with a snap, and he pulls it away, revealing long, elegant fingers. He turns then, looks up at him with starlit eyes and marvels at the blush that he could see even in such low light. Slowly, he brings the index finger to his lips, tongue lovingly wrapping around the digit and sucking gently.

“Noct,” Ignis warns, lips pressed against the shell of his ear.

“I know,” he pouts. Their precious time was quickly escaping, leaving little room for foreplay. He pours a liberal amount of lube in Iggy’s waiting hand. Noctis knew he was nothing but an attentive and efficient lover, one hand firmly around his throat and the other wrapping around his dick.

Heady whispers, tentative bites, ungodly sounds from the way they move their mouths against each other. Ignis leans away, peppering Noct’s damp neck with kisses, and twists his wrist in a manner that has him bucking into his hand and panting. With such a neglected need and their dwindling hour, it doesn’t take long for Noctis to come over his shirt and Iggy’s hand, sobbing out his name.

They stay like that, both breathing heavily before Noctis scoots away and removes his shirt to clean up the mess. He can’t quite look him in the eye yet, so he picks up his hand and wipes away the stickiness there. Eyes landing on his trousers (and the consequent bulge), he waggles his eyebrows at him.

“No, Gladio and Prompto will be--”

He pushes him down, undoing Iggy’s belt and zipper. “I can be quick.”

Ignis props himself up on his elbows, watching him slip out his cock. He bites his lip when he feels tongue flicking at the slit. Noctis looks up at him then, mischief and lust gleaming in the blue depths of his eyes. “Can you?” he asks before swallowing him down.

**Author's Note:**

> Title: "time for me". Comments, feedback, and kudos = love. What did you like best? What do you want me to further expand on?


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